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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392167">Masque</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernContinentSkies/pseuds/SouthernContinentSkies'>SouthernContinentSkies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Multi, Polyamory, Worldbuilding, appearances vs reality, canon-typical alcohol use, secretly competent Ivan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:36:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernContinentSkies/pseuds/SouthernContinentSkies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Ivan's marriage was political, doesn't mean it doesn't work really, really well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gregor Vorbarra/Laisa Toscane Vorbarra/Ivan Vorpatril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Masque</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts">james</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Midsummer Gala at the Residence, being outside the concentrated center of the social season between the Emperor’s Birthday and Winterfair, attracted two different types of people; those whose position obligated them to attend official Imperial festivities, and those who had nothing better to do and were always up for a party.</p><p>Outwardly, at least, Ivan was both - even now that he was married to the Emperor.</p><p>Of course, it helped that Laisa was <i>also</i> married to the Emperor, and could and did do most of the work of standing on ceremony and sitting on committees. Ivan's residual reputation as unambitious and apolitical allowed him to take a backseat in anything touching actual policy, though he did show up to wave from the dais at festivals, and make the occasional photo-op outreach visit. His favorite to date was the opening of a new bakery in one of Vorbarr Sultana's Greek neighborhoods, which had involved not only the best baklava Ivan had ever eaten, but an impressive number of celebratory toasts involving ouzo. </p><p>Tonight, he was standing near the sidelines of the Blue Ballroom, enjoying a brief and unusual moment of solitude - not counting the Vorbarra armsman at his heels, which he didn’t. The crowd this evening was thin on people Ivan actually wanted to talk to; Miles was off on some Auditorial adventure, and Ekaterin had, understandably, declined to attend on her own. Gregor and Laisa, of course, were working their way through their respective lists of obligatory acknowledgments. Ivan had his own such list, but it was slanted in rather a different direction.</p><p>Laisa, sweeping by with a gaggle of starstruck young women, took a momentary detour in his direction.</p><p>“Having fun, Ivan?”</p><p>“Of course!” Ivan said. “You’re the one with the responsibilities around here; all I’ve got to do is stand around and look pretty! Much more my speed.”</p><p>She shot him an amused side-eye over her glass, but drifted off again without further comment, her ducklings trailing after her. Graduate students from the various science and engineering departments this time, Ivan thought. In another generation or two, their future counterparts might be ImpMil - but wherever these ones went in the present, they’d answer the Empress’s comms. It wasn’t surprising from a lobbyist, but since her marriage to Gregor, Laisa had turned networking into an art form. Ivan had seen even his own mother raise an approving eyebrow at some of her schemes.</p><p>As the Empress's group departed, Ivan lifted his own glass to his lips in salute, though his sip was rather more decorous than it probably looked from afar. His continuing image as a political lightweight had its uses, and they were only enhanced by the image of being more intoxicated than he really was.</p><p>Turning to his own mandatory mingling, he headed towards Lord Auditor Vorgustafson across the room, on a trajectory designed to be both visible and interceptable. He was not even halfway there when Guillame Vortorren stumbled clumsily into his left arm.</p><p>“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Prince Ivan!” he said, brushing himself off in an exaggerated fashion. “I’m afraid I’ve had a bit too much to drink.”</p><p>The reception had only been open for twenty minutes. Ivan chose not to comment.</p><p>“Not to worry, Vortorren,” he said pleasantly. “It happens to the best of us.” He turned to continue on, but Vortorren stopped him with a hand on his arm.</p><p>“I just wanted to say, Prince Ivan,” he said, patting the front of Ivan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about what’s happened to you. And you should know,” he lowered his voice, “I’m not the only one. If you ever need a friend, please don’t hesitate to reach out to us, hmm?”</p><p>Ivan pasted on a pleasantly blank expression in response. He knew exactly what Vortorren meant, but he wasn't about to give the man the satisfaction of showing it.</p><p>A particular faction of mostly young Vor men, the type to describe themselves earnestly as dedicated to the Imperium and the strength afforded by its traditional values, had taken some offense at Ivan's marriage, which was admittedly unorthodox in its gender configuration for Barrayar. In their eyes, the whole thing was entirely political - not untrue - and also an insult to Ivan's red-blooded Vor manhood, both because it deprived Ivan of his inherent right to his own heirs - the finer points of uterine replication being mostly lost on them - and also forced him to make the apparently unthinkable choice between permanent celibacy, and engaging in what they clearly thought were Inherently Degrading Acts. Ivan didn't know whether they were all prudes, or if town clowns and university-educated men just weren't prone to the sorts of things that went on at the Academy. Either way, he could only roll his eyes.</p><p>He also sort of wanted to give them all an earful of his exceptionally gratifying sex life, second- or even <i>first-</i>hand, but whenever he suggested this remedy, Gregor gave him a Look.</p><p>Thankfully, Ivan's obvious lack of response was enough of a hint for Vortorren, and he wandered off towards the bar. He did actually trip over his own feet on the way there; in a possible credit to his acting skills, Ivan couldn’t tell whether that, too, was manufactured intoxication, or whether Vortorren was really just that clumsy.</p><p>As Ivan continued on his own way, he discreetly felt the pocket of his jacket closest to where Vortorren had patted him. Sure enough, the plastic crinkle of a flimsy betrayed the presence of a surreptitious note. It wasn’t the first time someone had passed Ivan a secret message at a social event, and if Vortorren's affiliations were any indication, the proposition inside would be far more treasonous than recreational.</p><p>You would think that five years of him being literally <em>married to the Emperor</em> would be enough time for these people to learn, but apparently not.</p>
<hr/><p>The political motivations for that marriage were the one thing that Vortorren and his ridiculous associates weren't entirely wrong about - though fortunately for all three of them, their relationship hadn't stopped there. </p><p>The months after Gregor’s marriage to Laisa had been some of the happiest Ivan’s extended family had ever been, in his estimation. His mother was joyously retired, the Viceroy and Vicereinne went contentedly back to Sergyar, Miles settled into his own wedded bliss, and Ivan relaxed and enjoyed <em>not </em>being bossed around by a baker’s dozen of Vorbarr Sultana’s worst Vor dragons.</p><p>And Gregor and Laisa, to Ivan’s satisfaction on many levels, had delayed only a very short time before getting down to the business of modern family planning, which in this day and age apparently involved not only replicators, but a multitude of complex spreadsheets.</p><p>Unfortunately, their mid-term announcement of the impending birth of the Crown Prince had revived some of the ugly anti-Komarran sentiment that had first reared its head in advance of their betrothal. One of its more insidious manifestations this time around had been a core of Conservatives loudly calling for a Return To Tradition, and specifically the revival of the Consort Law.</p><p>150 years ago, Emperor Dorca, high on his recent victories in both the Vorbarra internecine conflicts and the Unification Wars, had pushed a whole slate of new laws through the heavily cowed Council of Counts. Among them had been the Consort Law, which had essentially given Dorca the right to marry <em>again</em>, more or less (Ivan wasn’t a lawyer), despite the fact that he was already married. Ivan would love to know what on earth Dorca had given Pierre le Sanguinaire in exchange for his vote on that one, seeing as Dorca’s first wife and Empress was the man’s full-blooded sister. At any rate, the Counts had rubber-stamped it along with the rest of the “reforms,” and Dorca had married Alina Vorvolynkin as Princess Consort and fathered, along with a handful of daughters, Prince Xav, so Ivan Xav Vorpatril supposed he couldn’t be entirely against the practice. Dorca had been the only emperor to take advantage of the provision to date, however; Yuri hadn’t bothered to marry even once, and Ezar had apparently been so matrimonially disinclined that one politically-necessary wife who lived in an entirely different wing of the Residence was more than enough for him.</p><p> Gregor’s Conservative Counts, however, had looked at their unwelcome Komarran Empress and seen an opening to get Gregor the proper Vor wife they thought the Emperor needed - along with, presumably, a handful of proper Vor children. And with the birth of a half-Komarran heir on the horizon, they hadn't been shy about saying so.</p><p>Gregor was not amused.</p><p>Ivan had moved more and more into Gregor's personal orbit during the wedding preparations, and continued to come round with some regularity once the honeymoon shine wore off enough that he and Laisa wanted other company. This put him in a position to see rather more of Gregor's reaction than he would have several years earlier. Unlike some of their mutual relatives, his anger on the subject was a cold steep rather than a fast boil, and while ordinarily he was a model of restraint in politics, on this very personal issue he gave his creativity full reign. His ultimate solution had therefore been both twisty and hard-hitting enough for any Vorkosigan.</p><p>The simple solution, of course, was to simply put his foot down and refuse to marry anyone else. That had been Gregor's first inclination, supported by absolutely everyone who knew him personally. But the Conservatives persisted, and eventually Gregor decided that the best course of action, if he could swing it, would be to grant their wish in the worst way possible. Hopefully, the monkey's paw approach would deter future attempts at interference, where mere stubbornness might only encourage eternal whining.</p><p>Laisa, surprisingly to Ivan, was entirely on board with this plan, provided they could find the right person. Her first suggestion was one of the Vorbarr Sultana junior faculty or graduate students, who might find the idea of perennially secure funding and unfettered access to the Imperial archives decent compensation for the public-facing duties.</p><p>Gregor, however, thought that might cut too close to an acceptable solution as far as the Conservatives were concerned. Moreover, he wanted to make it obvious to everyone that no Princess Consort's children would ever come before Laisa's as a matter of succession or inheritance - and the only way to do that without inducing serious cracks in the foundation of family unity was for the hypothetical Consort to very obviously have no children at all.</p><p>He’d kept chewing over the problem in silence for several weeks, sinking suddenly into silence during cards or over dinner. Finally, one evening, he turned to Ivan over the remains of an excellent dessert.</p><p>“Ivan," he said slowly. "I’ve been thinking - what part of marriage do you object to, <em>exactly?</em>”</p><p>And, on hearing that it was primarily the expectation of children and the performance of a level of gravitas Ivan absolutely didn’t feel, he’d proposed.</p><p> Of course, Ivan had said yes, so apparently he was related to Miles, too.</p>
<hr/><p>Back in the present, Ivan made his way up to the balconied mezzanine for the formalities. Gregor and Laisa were already standing there, though they were still talking to Prime Minister Racozy and his wife, and not yet lined up for the speech. General Allegre was standing off to the side, doing his best not to lurk; Ivan approached him first.</p><p>“Good evening, Guy,” he said amiably, taking another, less performative drink of his wine. “Though not for Guillame Vortorren, unfortunately,” he added, at a lower volume.</p><p> Allegre sighed. “We’ll look into it. Thank you for the tip, Prince Ivan, as always.”</p><p> “Don’t mention it,” Ivan said drily, and drifted over to Gregor and Laisa.</p><p> Gregor, who had noticed his exchange with Allegre, raised an eyebrow at him. “Again, Ivan?”</p><p>Ivan shrugged. “It’s not my fault they’re idiots.”</p><p>The theme of Midsummer being generally martial, Gregor’s speech centered on such predictably patriotic themes as the contributions of various individuals to the military, the contributions of fundamental Barrayaran values to those individuals, and the contributions of the military to Barrayaran society generally.</p><p>Ivan, who had spent most of his short military career shuffling spreadsheets, before quitting to get married, stood in his appointed position behind Gregor’s left shoulder, and did his best to look appropriately interested.</p><p>The rest of the Gala went more or less predictably. The recreational drinking was muted in comparison to some of the other Residence events Ivan had attended. Not that he saw much of it anyway; the Imperial Household - Ivan’s attempts to popularize “Imperial Threesome” hadn't made it past the Protocol Office - left the ballroom with notable gravitas and decorum, exactly at midnight.</p>
<hr/><p>That gravitas and decorum lasted exactly as long as it took the door of the Imperial Suite to shut firmly behind their trailing armsmen. None of them were actually tired, and with the public at bay and the kids safely asleep in the nursery, the three of them could, at long last, speak freely.</p><p>“All I’m saying is,” said Laisa, as they all sprawled out on the couches in the depths of the Imperial Suite - well, she and Ivan sprawled; Gregor sat more or less decorously - “All I’m saying is, I don’t see why <em>I</em> shouldn’t get to review the troops, too.”</p><p>She was complaining about the formalities of the Midsummer Review, which had taken place three days earlier and which, alone among most official Imperial festivities, not only did not require the presence of the very female and civilian Empress, but actively discouraged it.</p><p>“There have been three previous Empresses,” she continued, gesturing with her wineglass, “that actually commanded Vorbarra troops! Did you know that? I looked it up specifically. And I don’t even want to do that part! I just want to stand there and, you know, review!”</p><p>She was mostly talking to Ivan. Gregor had probably had all the Vorbarra biographies memorized by the time he was eight, and anyway he and Laisa had already had the sober version of this conversation the week before.</p><p>“Do you really, though?” Ivan asked, by way of reply. “I mean, literally all you do is stand there. For hours. It’s really boring, I promise. Even the shiny uniforms get a lot less interesting once you’ve seen several hundred sequentially.”</p><p>Laisa rolled her head towards Gregor. “Is it really as boring as all that, darling?”</p><p>“Yes,” Gregor said solemnly. “Yes, it really, really is.” He was definitely more sober than either of his spouses, but he'd had enough to take his hair down.</p><p>“Well, if you <em>really</em> want to review the troops,” Ivan said, waggling his eyebrows at Laisa, “I’m an entire Captain, or I used to be. You can review <em>me</em> for as many hours as you like - and I promise it’ll be a lot more interesting than the parade grounds!”</p><p>Gregor snorted a laugh into his wine glass.</p><p>“You’re only one troop, though,” Laisa said thoughtfully. “I think I’d have to review at least two to qualify for the plural.” She waggled here eyebrows in Gregor's direction.</p><p>“I was only sort of an Ensign,” Gregor said mournfully. “For a year. I’m not sure that counts.”</p><p>“An ensign is still an officer!” Ivan said, ignoring the several thousand disparaging remarks he’d made about that rank since getting promoted out of it. “And a year is enough to qualify for separation benefits, as long as you’re honorably separated. So there!”</p><p>Gregor paused. “You know, I’m not sure I <em>was</em> honorably separated. Is there a separate phrasing for ‘I had to quit to be a Count’? I actually have no idea what they put on the paperwork.”</p><p>“Well, they certainly didn’t say you were <em>dis</em>honorably separated, good grief, Gregor. That counts! Now come over here and be reviewed with the rest of us!”</p><p>“I think,” Gregor said, putting his glass aside and standing, “that it is very late, and both of you are quite endearingly silly, and it is high time that all of us went to bed.”</p><p> “Oh, really,” Ivan said. “Like that’s not exactly what we’ve both been saying.”</p><p> “Yes,” said Laisa. “I quite agree. With both of you. Ivan?”</p><p>She held out her hand. Ivan stood, and took it, and indeed, they all went to bed.</p>
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